


Snowflakes

by uselessroar



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, really really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselessroar/pseuds/uselessroar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All he wanted was her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

_White lips, pale face_ __  
Breathing in snowflakes  
Burnt lungs, sour taste

She smiled at him, pink lips parting to reveal dazzling white teeth. The snow falling all around them seemed to make her glow, her beauty never failed to dumbfound him. Grey eyes, so alike to clouds on a stormy day, seemingly exuded love and happiness.

The snow fell on her blonde hair, the cold turning the tip of her nose red and her skin paler than its usual tan tone. She twirled around, tongue sticking out, seeking snowflakes falling from the night sky. The sweet melody of her laugh echoed through his empty backyard.

He smiled at her, his mind absorbing the gentle tune of her laughter and noting how beautiful she looked. He stood watching her, green eyes never moving away from the figure twirling around in the snow.

_Light's gone; day's end_ __  
Struggling to pay rent  
Long nights, strange men

Her grey eyes, once filled with happiness, filled with tears that threatened to fall. She rested her head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort and warmth he seemingly contained all his life. He stroked her soft hair, pleading to her to tell him her problems and worries. She spent the entire night in his arms, words spilling from her mouth, tears spilling from her eyes. In the morning, all that was left was the dried tear splotches on his shirt, the only remnants of their night spent together.

He saw her leave with another man at the nightclub she frequented.

_And they say_  
She’s in the class A Team  
Stuck in her daydreams  
Been this way since eighteen

He always saw her drawing. Besides when she was flirting, her head would be turned downwards, buried in that book; her hand stroking lines on a sketchbook with some kind of writing tool, never looking away.

She never allowed him to see the content of her sketchbooks but he had seen enough of her doodles when they were in high school to know that they were probably amazing. She seemingly spent all her time drawing; drawing _what_ he never knew. He always respected her wish to not lay eyes on her works. Her head was always stuck in the clouds.

_But lately her face seems_  
Slowly sinking, wasting  
Crumbling like pastries  
And they scream  
The worst things in life come free to us

He remembered how she used to be before, when her eyes seemingly shone and her smile blinded anyone in vicinity with its brilliance. When every time he said or did anything stupid, she’d roll her eyes but smile that beautiful smile, naturally pink lips parting to reveal straight pearly whites.

The change had been so gradual he had not noticed it at first. Every day, the light in her eyes seemed to become dimmer and dimmer. Her smile became falser and falser. He fought the urge to comment every time, telling himself it was okay, that he had been imagining it.

He wished he had been right.

_Cause we're just under the upper hand_ __  
And go mad for a couple grams  
And she don't want to go outside tonight  
And in a pipe she flies to the Motherland  
And sells love to another man  
It's too cold outside  
For angels to fly  
Angels to fly

He wished she saw herself through his eyes.

She smiled widely at him, the smile that made his heart pound and his palms sweat. The slight indents on her smooth cheeks only served to make her cuter, which was unfortunate for his health. His mind flashed to an older image of her, twirling in the snow; seemingly glowing. The words she uttered were so similar, yet the setting was so different.

The smooth pattering noise of the rain against the windows of his home were comforting, background noise to the melodic voice of the blonde beauty in front of him. She was dressed in his clothes; hers scrunched up in a wet pile on his bathroom floor. Blonde hair in a scraggly mess, she sat cross-legged on his couch with hands moving animatedly as she spelt out her hopes and dreams to him, her best friend. Grey eyes widened dramatically with emphasis on certain words, her words often getting interrupted with giggles.

This was a version of her only he saw.

He wished more people would see _that_ her, wished that her dimples would permanently adorn her cheeks; that her eyes will constantly hold that sparkle once again. He was so very certain that the way her eyes squint as she throws her head back in laughter could cure cancer. The happiness in her eyes that appeared so rarely nowadays could be the answer to world hunger. He wondered if it was selfish that he was keeping her to himself.

His green eyes stare into her grey ones, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. She cracks a joke and he laughs at just how _bad_ it was, informing her of that fact. She pushes his shoulder, pouting playfully as she shoves his sleeves up to be able to get a firm grip of his hot cocoa. Seventeen and stress-free; what an amazing time it had been. All good things had to come to an end after all.

Their friendship just so happened to be one of them.

It was a Tuesday when it happened. She’d come once again, eyes wet with tears and mouth holding in the reasons behind them. He’d held her silently once again. But he felt pained, seeing his best friend hurt. So he asked. And she snapped. Sharp words turned into a screaming match and both parties ended up saying things they’d both regret.  Feelings were hurt, low blows were made. And finally, he’d blurted it out. He confessed. And she stared at him, grey eyes calculatingly scanning his face.

She left.

Out the door without a look behind her shoulder. Not a word said. She never came back.

So alike to his father.

The news came the next week. Her younger brother called him, days after it happened, like he was an afterthought. He spoke with the young man for a few minutes, hanging up and feeling hollow for awhile after that. He’d run a hand through his messy jet black hair, stared at the wall and sat down. He grabbed his cellphone, dialed her number and listened to the robotic voice asking him to leave a message.

He waited patiently for the tone, “I still love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on fanfiction.net also


End file.
